Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. Anna jumped into a waiting hansom. I want to hammer myself against all this that pens women in. At least one of them was caught and put away. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table. Mac—the old gossip—knew about everything going on in that part of the world; and if Enschede was anything up to the picture the girl had drawn, McClintock would have heard of him, naturally.
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